


Like Any Other Kid

by DawnsEternalLight



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Bruce is a good dad, Father Son Bonding, Gen, Nightmare, Nightmares, Resurrection, Spiders, problems sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:05:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnsEternalLight/pseuds/DawnsEternalLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian's had nightmares every night since he was resurrected and has refused to tell anyone about them until now. Tired of dealing with them, he does what any other kid would do and joins his father in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Any Other Kid

“Master Damian? Is something the matter?” Alfred asked, illuminated by Damian’s computer screen.

“Pennyworth?” Damian blinked up at him from the couch where he’d planted himself, confused for a moment, “No, I’m fine. Just working late.”

“It’s the middle of the night, and not a patrol night. You should be sleeping not working.”

“I lost track of time. What are you doing up?”

Alfred held a glass filled with water up for him to see, “Just getting something to drink, I saw your light from the hallway, try to get to sleep soon,” he said moving away.

He paused at the door and turned, “Goodnight, Master Damian.”

“Goodnight, Pennyworth.”

Damian turned back to his computer and glanced at the time, it was a little after 3 am. Well past the middle of the night, and yet, Damian dreaded the thought of going to bed.

He rubbed his itchy eyes, an aftereffect not of staring at his computer but from lack of sleep. He hadn’t slept properly in months. If he was being honest with himself he hadn’t really slept since he’d come back to life, too many nightmares haunted his sleep.

Every night, over and over he saw visions of his death replayed, saw his family mourning, couldn’t escape his mother’s clutching hands, couldn’t help when everything was reversed and instead of him being dead it was his family.

He hadn’t told anyone about his nightmares, he didn’t want to worry his Father or Pennyworth. They were so happy he was back, and had worried so much about him already. First about his powers, then after he lost them, he would not worry them with something as trivial as recurring nightmares.

So far he’d been able to keep his Father and Pennyworth from finding out, sure both had caught him in the middle of one or two nightmares, but they had no idea of the scope. It was easy without Grayson there to check in on him all the time.

Grayson, Damian’s heart constricted at the thought of his big brother. He’d failed him, a nightmare come to life. Damian hadn’t been there to protect him, instead he’d been dead, and now here he was alive and Grayson wasn’t.

Damian could feel the tears threatening at the edges of his eyes, no he wasn’t going to think about it. He was tired, it was late, and his emotions weren’t as in check as he liked to keep them. Busy work, that’s how he’d been coping so far, and that’s how he was going to now.

He looked back down at his computer, the figures swimming before his eyes. Maybe he couldn’t distract himself with work. His hand went to his backup plan, the tablet beside him. He clicked it on and opened the book he was reading, Jason had suggested Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein and he’d been gradually working his way through it.

The text popped up in his preferred night reading mode, white text on a black background. He settled himself into the corner of the couch to read, pulling his legs up so he could rest the device against them.

_“Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed?”_

“Tt,” Damian tsked as he clicked the tablet off. This was not working. He slid his feet off the couch and stood, maybe he would try going to sleep.

He put his tablet away, changed and got into bed, his hand resting on the power switch to the light on his nightstand. His heartrate sped up, and his free hand curled into a fist, gripping his comforter. He was not afraid of sleep. He wasn’t afraid of anything, so why was he hesitating?

He clicked the light off, and clicked it back on.

This was silly, he could handle a few nightmares. He had to. He refused, absolutely refused to bother his father with this. He was a Wayne and Robin, he was stronger than some average kid. He turned the light off again and stared ahead, the dim moonlight casting shadows that danced over his bedspread.

He blinked and the dappled light and shadow figures morphed into an army of spiders rushing at him. All of them piling around him as a voice echoed through his room, questioning him, why was he alive, why had he come back to life?

He didn’t deserve it, not when so many other people deserved it so much more than he did. The spiders were crawling up his arms now. Damian scrambled, throwing the blankets aside, before jumping off the bed and rubbing furiously at his arms. He stared at his bed, nothing was moving, he’d nodded off for a second and already they’d started.

He was so tired of this, so tired of being tired all the time, so tired of the nightmares. His breath caught as frustrated tears choked him. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t deal with it. Automatically his feet moved towards his door, tugging it open.

He crept down the hall silently, stopping just outside his father’s door, his hand going to the knob before returning to his side. What would Father think? Would he be disappointed? Would he tell Damian to return to bed, that nightmares shouldn’t bother him?

He almost turned around, but the pull of possibly finding some comfort and relief was too strong. Maybe he could sneak into the bed without waking up his father. He inched the door open silently, making a note to thank Alfred for his attention to detail. He took the last few steps towards his father’s bed and hesitated again.

He stood there for a moment watching his father’s chest move up and down in steady slow breaths. Fear gripped him again about what Father’s reaction might be, he could still turn around, still go back to his room, still-

“Damian? What’s the matter?”

“Father,” Damian’s voice cracked and Bruce sat up instantly on the alert and Damian flinched, ready to bolt.

“Damian, tell me what’s wrong,” Bruce asked again, leaning forward to put a hand on his son’s shaking shoulder.

Damian couldn’t speak, couldn’t get the words out. He and his father had come so far, and yet he couldn’t tell his father the truth, couldn’t tell him that since he’d brought Damian back to life he’d had nothing but nightmares. He didn’t want hurt his father that way, because he knew Father would blame himself.

“Did you have another nightmare?” The question was soft, gentle, his eyes searching.

Damian nodded, not willing to trust his voice.

“You want to join me?” he asked tugging up a corner of his bedspread.

Damian nodded again and climbed in, Bruce scooting back to give his son room. When he seemed comfortable his father tucked the blanket around Damian and tugged him close, one of his hands going to tangle in Damian’s hair while the other rubbed circles in his back.

“Father?” the question was so quiet he wasn’t sure he’d been heard.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

His father’s hand stopped, and Damian knew he’d made a mistake, he shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just let things be, now Father was angry. Damian made to scoot out of the bed, but his father’s arm on his back stopped him, holding him in place.

“Damian,” the word was a breath, but it didn’t hold an ounce of anger or even disappointment. It was sad, “You know you can always come to me right? It doesn’t matter what the reason is I’m here.”

“What if it hurts you?”

Father tensed, now Damian had done it, he was sure. He couldn’t stop thinking about all the things Talia would tell him in response to a statement like that. He knew his father was different, he did, he just couldn’t believe it right now, the nightmares had torn too much at him.

His father pulled back a little to look at Damian, “Damian, it’s my job to worry about things like that. Your my son, and you should feel free to come to me with anything, without fear of how I’m going to feel.”

Damian nodded, because that’s what his father wanted, but that didn’t stop him from still worrying.

“Do you want to know what I felt when I woke up and saw you standing there?”

“What?”

“I was happy that you’d come to me, because it meant that you trusted me enough to help with whatever problem you were having,” his hand was rubbing circles in Damian’s back again and he felt the fear easing away with every rotation.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” his father smiled, “I love you, son.”

Damian slipped his arms around his father’s torso in a hug, pressing his face into his chest, “I love you too.”

His father didn’t stop rubbing his back until Damian was asleep, the motion soothing everything that had been coiling inside him. The warmth of his father, and the comfort of his steady breathing lulled Damian into sweet, dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The quoted text is the opening line of chapter 8 of Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein.


End file.
